The Concealers Read Online Free PDF Page B

Marcia.
How long do you owe a duty to the dead?
    Preston’s automobile stores were booming with business and his real estate was holding its own. He had ample time for golf, the club, and travel, and Marcia was totally consumed with being a mother. They enjoyed the occasional dinner out, thanks to their godsend of a nanny, and they’d hung onto the home in the Hamptons, where they had taken P.J. a few times to experience the country and to see the ocean. Apart from Marcia’s disappointment and occasional nagging, Preston felt that he and his wife were in a better place than ever, except for the P.J. issue. And now that accusatory word
slipping.
It left a wrench in his gut and spoiled his afternoon.
    He had thought many times about calling Tommy and Missy, but something always seemed to come up at the office, or time with P.J.’s doctors got in the way. As for Harry, Preston had certainly let him know that he’d intended to get together . . . it was just that he’d been so busy.
    â€œI’ll give Bill or Mary a call about tonight,” Marcia said, interrupting Preston’s thoughts.
    Preston gave Marcia a perfunctory kiss good-bye and headed out of the door.

 
CHAPTER THREE
K atherine rolled over to find Hailey sniffing expectantly at the window, where sunlight was streaming past the gauzy curtain. The chilly spring storm that had brushed the city was past, and she knew Hailey would be eager for an outing. Her mother had warned that Katherine’s beloved golden retriever would be a distraction during grad school, and, of course, Susan—who loved dogs—thought anyone who wanted to keep a dog in a cramped apartment in the city was completely nuts. But Katherine couldn’t imagine getting through graduate school without Hailey’s companionship and moral support.
    Four days after the race, Katherine finally felt rested—and hungry. She hopped in the shower, as always appreciating the tremendous water pressure and instant hot temperature inherent in these old Manhattan buildings. She welcomed the pounding of the water on her body, particularly the strained muscles in her neck, shoulders, and back, as she thought about her meeting this morning. She toweled off in front of the mirror. Dissatisfied with what she saw—thighs too big, breasts too small, legs too thick—she renewed her pledge to eat less and work out more, and picked out a pair of khaki pants and a light tan collared blouse with small red flowers.
    â€œC’mon, Hailey, Dr. Gerry’s waiting!” Katherine said as she grabbed a scarf, looped it around her neck, and bounded down the twenty-five stairs and around the corner to the coffee shop, her favorite hangout morning and night.
    After hot coffee and a bagel with lox and cream cheese, another New Yorker habit she’d been happy to adopt, she hoisted her backpack, took Hailey’s leash, and headed north toward Broadway, but not before noticing all the tents already in place in the square. She loved NYC’s street fairs, festivals, and farmers’ markets, especially the artists and vendors they drew. The fresh produce of the farmers’ market always reminded her of home.
    When Katherine first came to the city, she had been overwhelmed by the crowds—people rushing everywhere all at once—and the cacophony of honking horns, sirens, jackhammers, traffic, garbage trucks, and street sweepers. A world away from the rural peace and quiet of Marion, New York. But Katherine had quickly absorbed the energy of the city, and now, on her rare trips home, the slow pace, absence of crowds, and quiet felt like forced re-acclimation.
    Entering Broadway, Katherine heard a man playing a saxophone beneath the silvery statue of Andy Warhol, as she passed under a block-long scaffold, portending renovation, but without ever seeing a single workman. When she got to East Twentieth, she could just make out the side of her destination, the iconic